


Headache

by flowerfan



Series: Season 7 future!fics [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine doesn’t know what to say.  You seem like you’re developing a vampire-like revulsion to bright light?  He doesn’t think it would go over well.  But something is wrong, and he's getting worried.</p><p>
  <i>Part of a series of canon compliant “Season 7” ficlets that look at events in the early married life of Kurt and Blaine.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headache

_February, 2015_

It is a very bad winter in New York City. The storms have been relentless, alternating between snow and ice and coating the city repeatedly in drifts that city workers can’t clear away fast enough before the next storm pelts down. Both Kurt and Blaine have had miserable colds, giving up on all pretense of keeping house in exchange for trying to stay warm, hydrated, and surrounded by sufficient boxes of tissues to meet their needs.

But they are both recovered now, and despite the biting wind that is making his cheeks ache as he trudges homeward, Blaine is feeling hopeful. His rehearsal was cancelled tonight, and if he hurries, he should have enough time to make something nice for dinner before Kurt gets home. They could both use something to cheer them up.

He slips into an Indian market, struggling with the door as the wind catches it, and is surprised to see several crates of mangos piled in front of the register. Surely they must have been grown on some alien planet to be ripe at this time of year, but Blaine doesn’t care. He grabs a half dozen, some canned pineapple, and a variety of other ingredients, and goes back out into the storm.

By the time Kurt gets home there is pineapple curry chicken bubbling away in the pan, brown rice in a dish, and mango salsa with red peppers, cilantro and mint ready to be eaten with some savory crackers. Kurt grins appreciatively and pours them some crisp white wine which they sip as they wait for the chicken to finish cooking, both of them relaxed and warm, and looking forward to a pleasant evening.

But after dinner when Blaine suggests that they curl up on the couch and watch a movie, Kurt declines, citing a headache. “I may have had too much wine,” he says dejectedly, letting Blaine pet him and tuck him into bed. Blaine retreats to the couch by himself to catch up on some old episodes of a cop show that Kurt doesn’t particularly care for but Sam swears is the best thing Matthew McConaughey has ever done.

A few days later they are both up late studying. Blaine can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing when they both have an exam on the same day. On the one hand, they both need to study, so in theory they should just be able to do it together and not distract each other. On the other hand, Blaine thinks they work better together as a couple when only one of them is stressed at a time, and the other can be the caretaker. They both enjoy this role, although they are a little different in how they carry it out, but tonight there’s no care to be taken – just studying.

Blaine puts on another pot of coffee, but just as he is about to pour it into their empty mugs, Kurt looks up from the table. “None for me,” he says, closing his textbook. “I’m going to bed.”

It’s barely nine-thirty p.m., and Kurt hardly ever goes to bed before midnight, even when he doesn’t have any studying to do. “Are you okay?” Blaine asks, coming over to put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, just beat,” Kurt says, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on Blaine’s lips. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Over the next few days Blaine begins to keep track of the things that seem off. Kurt squints into the bathroom mirror in the morning, something he swore he’d never do because it brings on premature wrinkling. Kurt turns off all the lights in the bedroom and just uses the light of his iPad to read with, even when it isn’t time for bed. And worst of all, he declares that they are all out of Advil, even though Blaine knows that he bought a new bottle a week or two ago.

He slips into the bedroom late one night and sees Kurt turn his face away from the light that comes in as he opens the door. Closing it quickly, he slides into bed next to Kurt, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and spooning him tightly against his chest. “Kurt, what’s wrong? Please, you have to tell me.”

Kurt turns in his arms and presses his face close to Blaine’s, his skin warm and soft against his own. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

“But…” Blaine doesn’t know what to say. You seem like you’re developing a vampire-like revulsion to bright light? He doesn’t think it would go over well.

“Go to sleep.”

Blaine tries to let it go, but he just can’t. The next day he bounds into the apartment after classes, expecting to find Kurt ready to go out. Elliott’s band is performing and he has made them promise, promise, super-pinky swear that they would be there to cheer him on, and Blaine is looking forward to it.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go,” Kurt says sadly, gesturing at the piles of paper around him. “Isabelle needs this tonight, or first thing tomorrow at the latest, and I’m hours away from being done.” He rubs at his forehead as he speaks, and Blaine sits down next to him, the concern on his face obvious to Kurt. “It’s okay, you go, Elliott will kill us if neither of us goes. Besides, if we both stay home he’ll think we’re fooling around – if you go, at least he’ll believe that I have a real excuse.”

Blaine drags his feet, not wanting to leave Kurt alone. “Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, Advil?”

“I’ve already taken too many today,” Kurt replies. “And if I have any more tea, I’ll float away. Go see Starchild shine.”

Elliott and his band are fantastic, but Blaine is hardly paying attention. All he can think about is Kurt, and what might be wrong with him. By the time he gets home, freezing cold and stomach aching with worry, he has wound himself up into a frenzy.

Kurt is asleep, bundled up in their bed, hogging all the blankets. Blaine tries to fall asleep next to him, one hand resting on his husband’s chest to reassure himself that he’s still there, but he can’t relax.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks sleepily, turning over to face him. “Are you okay? How was Elliott?”

“Me? You want to know if I’m okay?” Blaine’s voice comes out higher than he likes it, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. When he speaks again, it is in a more reasonable key. “Elliott was great. How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Kurt mutters, pressing his face into Blaine’s chest. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Blaine breathes out, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “That’s it, I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow.”

Kurt shifts back, frowning. “Um, no. I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I’m not a child, I’m certainly not your child, and I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

Blaine sits up in bed, and then, finding that insufficient to calm himself, gets out of bed and starts pacing. “Kurt, I know you don’t want to see it, but I think something is really wrong. I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about it, but I love you, and I can’t stand this. You need to see a doctor.”

“No, Blaine, I really don’t need to go –“

“Stop saying that!” Blaine is yelling, and tears are coursing down his cheeks. “What if something is really wrong? You’ve been putting me off for days, and I can’t stop thinking about it…”

“About what?”

Blaine sinks back on to the bed, on his knees in front of Kurt, almost afraid to look him in the eye. But he finds his gaze, and finally spits it out. “Didn’t you tell me your mom had terrible headaches before she got sick?” _And then she died of cancer_ is the unspoken remainder of that sentence. “I can’t bear the thought of that happening to you. Please, let me take you to the doctor before it gets any worse. Please, Kurt, please.” 

Blaine is sobbing now, all his worry and fear from the past few weeks spilling out of him.

“Oh, honey, no,” Kurt catches him up in a tight hug and pulls him close. “This is not cancer, it’s not. I promise you.”

“H-h-how can you know, if you won’t go to the doctor?”

“Two reasons. Calm down for me, and I’ll tell you, okay?” Kurt holds Blaine firmly and rubs his back as Blaine’s sobs peter out and he tries to catch his breath. “I’m okay, really I am. I’m so sorry I worried you, but I’m okay.”

Kurt gives Blaine a tissue to wipe his eyes with, and switches on the bedside lamp. Blaine can see him trying not to wince as the light comes on, and he almost starts crying again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Kurt begins, and Blaine doesn’t understand. 

“With cancer?” he asks stupidly, and Kurt just shakes his head.

“No, dummy. With my new glasses.”

“Glasses?”

“Eye glasses. I pick them up tomorrow. They’re very stylish, I hope you’ll like them.” Kurt gives a shy little bob of his head as he says this, and even through his confusion Blaine recognizes that Kurt is nervous. Kurt never wanted to have to wear glasses, and he thinks Blaine won’t like the way he looks in them. Which is ridiculous.

“So the headaches are…?”

“Eye strain. And apparently too much use of my iPad, in poor lighting, blah blah blah. I’m significantly nearsighted, turns out, and I’ve apparently been in denial for a while. I went to the eye doctor last week.” Kurt reaches out to take Blaine’s hand and rub his thumb over his ring. “I should have told you.”

Blaine nods, letting it sink in. Eye strain. Kurt’s really okay. “You said there were two reasons?”

Kurt takes a deep breath. “Okay, this part isn’t as straightforward.” Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand and waits, the anxious expression on Kurt’s face bringing his worry right back to the surface.

“You know I’m kind of a hypochondriac” – Blaine nods – “and obviously with what happened to my mom, and my dad’s health problems, it has occurred to me that I could have medical issues too. So I have full physicals twice a year, and have pretty much insisted that they test me for whatever things might indicate cancer as often as possible. It’s not usually covered by insurance, but given my medical history and powers of persuasion, I’ve done pretty well getting coverage.”

Blaine looks at Kurt, knowing how much he hates hospitals and doctors, and tries to reconcile this with what he’s just heard, Kurt putting himself through more stress and worry to try to avoid an entirely different kind of stress and worry. “I could have gone with you. I would have been there… Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kurt shrugs. “There’s still no guarantee. And I didn’t want to worry you.”

At this, a tiny laugh escapes Blaine’s throat, and soon he is full-on giggling. “You didn’t want to worry…” He can’t even get the words out. Kurt starts laughing, too, and they throw themselves backwards on the bed and cackle until they are exhausted.

“Thanks for looking out for me, husband,” Blaine says with a final giggle.

“And thanks for looking out for me,” Kurt replies. He squints an eye open and looks at Blaine, his face flushed and hair a mess. “I mean it.”

Blaine smiles and pulls Kurt close, relieved and happy and so, so in love. “Me too.”


End file.
